


Window Shopping

by Cavatica



Series: Animorphs Prompt Month [2]
Category: Animorphs (TV), Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Coming Out, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 01:31:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12266181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cavatica/pseuds/Cavatica
Summary: October Animorphs Prompt 04: ShoppingRachel and Marco arrive early for a meeting and pass the time making commentary on various fashion crimes.





	Window Shopping

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [bleck](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleck/pseuds/Bleck) for organizing this prompt month and setting the prompts! Thanks to [LilacSolanum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacSolanum/pseuds/LilacSolanum) for being the most endearingly catty gay. Please see [my tumblr](http://acavatica.tumblr.com) where I will be posting a new piece of writing or art everyday this month. Check out [the prompts at bleck's tumblr](https://miraculoussparrow.tumblr.com/post/164906900561/animorphs-prompts)!

Rachel turned her wrist over like she was examining her manicure. Rachel was the kind of girl who wore her watch on the underside of her wrist. On anyone else, Marco thought that looked like they were trying too hard. As much as he ragged on her, Rachel never looked like she was trying too hard.

“What, are we miraculously early or do the people with whom we’ve entrusted the fate of the world really not know how Daylight Saving Time works?”

“God, if that’s the case, I’m stuck here with you for a whole hour.” Rachel crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair.

“Oh, Rachel, control yourself,” Marco deadpanned. “What if your  _stroooong_  stoic birdman comes and sees us like this?”

Rachel rolled her eyes and tossed her wadded up straw wrapper at Marco, hitting him square between the eyes. Smiling in satisfaction, she took a long sip of her Diet Coke, turned around in her chair, and looked out at the food court.

“Ugh,” she said. Marco looked up, trying to follow her gaze. “Who decided pants under skirts was a good look?”

Marco put his elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his hand. “Probably the same person who told that guy mullets are still in.”

Rachel glanced at Marco, who grinned. A wicked smirk slowly overtook her face and she turned back around. “God,” she said, her tone so perfectly So Cal she could have been Alicia Silverstone herself, “The eighties called and they’re repossessing your stirrup pants. You’re being arrested for public indecency.”

“Oh my  _god_ , Rachel, we have to find Scary, Baby, Posh, and Ginger; they lost Sporty and she’s trapped in Footlocker!”

“Oof, some people are not meant to wear a high pony.”

“I dunno, I’d give Sporty like a seven,” Marco said.

“You’re such a pig. You’d give my dead grandma a six.”

“Bubbe Berenson? Nah, she was an eight, easy. You Berensons have such strong bone structure, after all.” Marco leaned forward, fluttering his eyelashes at her.

Rachel feigned dumping her cup of ice on Marco’s head. Even though he was pretty sure she was just fooling around, she was still Rachel and her impulse control was unreliable, even on the best of days. Marco dodged in absolute seriousness, some fucked-up soldier instinct activating inside him. He tried to play it off. Rachel’s expression hardened, but then she relaxed. They both had to make a conscious decision to have a good time, but at least they could still make that decision. What else were they even fighting for?

Rachel leaned back in her seat again, her mannerisms just slightly cooler than they had been. She turned back toward the busy thoroughfare. “What about the chick with all the piercings?”

Marco lifted an eyebrow. Was this some kind of trap? “I dunno if that’s my scene, but she’s probably into some weird shit so like a seven-point-five.”

“Typical,” Rachel said. “I see one person out there over an eight. Guess.”

Marco frowned and scanned the crowd, feeling like he was playing Russian roulette with a girl who’d put five bullets in the revolver instead of one. “Abercrombie guy.”

Rachel snorted. “Four. Come  _on_.”

Marco raked his hand through his hair. He thought he was like a nine, but maybe Rachel was right and he had no standards. He preferred to think of it as he had a lot of love to give. “Okay, I get it, you’re into the artsy, broody type. The goth guy with the ponytail.”

“Six,” Rachel said, a smirk playing at the edges of her lips.

Marco crossed his arms and sank in his seat. “Fine, I give up, you are complicated and unknowable.”

Rachel thrived on victory, no matter if it was on the battlefield, in the clearance racks, or just beating Marco at some stupid game. “See the girl in the sundress and the Doc Martens?”

Marco’s eyebrows probably shot up into his scalp. Okay. This is how they were playing it. “Of course. She’s like a nine-point-five. How could I expect less from Rachel ‘Perfect Ten’ Berenson?”

Rachel wrinkled her nose, but she didn’t punch him, so that was a win in Marco’s book. “What about  _you_ , Marco?” Rachel said. He could hear the challenge in her words.

He didn’t have to search, he’d already spotted the hottest person out there, at least in  _his_ opinion. “That guy in the beanie, with the coffee, sitting on the bench outside Borders.”

A grin broke out on Rachel’s face, bright like the sun and rare like her feelings that didn’t include bloodlust. “Oh Marco, the sensitive type?”

“Yeah, says the girl dating  _Hawkius sadpoetriensus_.”

Rachel let out a single snort. “That’s so dumb.” She looked up and put her fingers delicately to her cheek. “Ugh, look at that  _tragic_ flannel-dungarees combo.”

Marco snickered. “And how would you rate that?”

“I dunno, I guess it’s kind of got a rustic charm? Like a six. Seven, if the dungarees fit and the flannel was a different color and the boots were actually Timberlands.”

Marco stood and put his arm up. “Hey, Cassie! We’re over here!”


End file.
